


Closer

by LeoArcana



Series: Prompts [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drug Use, Drunk Dean, Drunk Sex, Dubious Consent, High Dean, M/M, Rough Sex, Shotgunning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:03:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6584359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoArcana/pseuds/LeoArcana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean just wanted a break from being himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer

Part of the reason Castiel preferred the orgies to be in his cabin was that he didn’t like walking back.  It wasn’t a walk of shame, he had nothing to be ashamed about at this point.  As much as he loved falling apart with the other survivors, he didn’t love walking back sweat-drenched with cum leaking out or sticking to his skin.  He could clean up before he left, there was no rule against using the host’s shower.  But he didn’t like using others’ showers either.  He only showered elsewhere if he was truly a wrecked mess without the energy to go back to his own cabin and shower.

He shivered slightly as the wind blew over his exposed skin; he’d only bothered putting his shirt back on.  It was a short walk and he preferred not potentially ruining his last pair of pants.  Dean would probably tear him a new one if he found out.  Their fearless leader had been on a rampage as of late and even the slightest bit of bad news had him upturning tables and throwing anything within reach.  Chuck was the most recent to be on the receiving end when he’d told Dean the camp was almost out of toilet paper, despite his hoarding.

Castiel pushed his door open, stepped in and paused.  His cabin smelled of oily, herbal smoke.  Which was fairly common, but this had a fresher scent to it.  Castiel narrowed his eyes suspiciously and walked around the corner to the open space that was both a living room and bedroom.  The rugs had been disturbed and wrinkled up, a few things tipped over.  He lifted his eyes to the bed and saw the still form of their fearless leader laying curled up on his side.  On the nightstand beside him, an ashtray held still smoldering blunts and cigarettes.

Castiel crossed the space and went straight to the bed, fear and worry knotting up in his stomach.  He placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and shook him.  Dean whimpered and curled in tighter on himself.  Castiel straightened up and picked up one of the smoldering blunts.  He knew it was one he had laced, he always rolled them differently just to differentiate, but he had no idea what this particular one was laced with.  Nor the other two in the ashtray.  He dropped it and tried again to rouse Dean with more concern. 

“What?” Dean whined.

He turned slightly to glare up at Castiel with as much annoyance as he could muster.

“’Bout time y’got back…” Dean slurred.

He’d been drinking too, Castiel realized.

“You smell like sex,” Dean noted.

“I was at an orgy,” Castiel replied.

He kept his voice even as he looked over Dean for signs of anything wrong, but he saw nothing.

“I don’ like it,” Dean stated.

Dean reached up and grabbed Castiel’s wrist.  He pulled him down on the bed, crawled up beside him and settled close enough for Castiel to smell the cinnamon whiskey on his breath.  He idly wondered where Dean had gotten it, there hadn’t been any decent liquor in the camp for weeks.

Dean leaned over him and reached for the blunt.  Castiel narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Dean’s hand as it came back across him, holding the blunt.  Dean never smoked, nothing mind-altering at least, he’d made it clear on numerous occasions he hated the stuff.  And yet, Castiel laid there and watched as he took a drag.  He made a pinched face of disgust and looked down, blowing the smoke out over Castiel’s stomach.

“I needed help,” Dean admitted, “An’ you weren’t here.”

“What did you need help with?” Castiel asked carefully.

“I don’t wanna be me anymore.”

Castiel tilted his head, puzzled by the answer.  The hunter propped himself up and grabbed the back of Castiel’s head.  He brought him close and pressed his lips lightly to Castiel and exhaled.  Without a thought, Castiel breathed in the smoke.

Before he had a chance to ask, Dean was pressing his lips to his again.  Dean moved over him, kissing him more aggressively and flicking the burned out blunt back onto the ashtray.  He shifted his weight to one hand and used the other to fumble at the buckle of his belt.

“What’re you doing?” Castiel breathed.

“I wanna fuck you.”

“What?  Why?”

“Everyone else got to.”

Castiel froze at the words; they stung more than they should’ve. 

“Everyone always gets to be someone else when they’re with you,” Dean added, “I wanna be someone else.”

Dean lifted himself and moved just enough to flip Castiel.  He felt Dean’s cock slide between his ass cheeks, accompanied by the rough denim and the light bite of the zipper.  The head of Dean’s cock pushed at his hole.  He slid in with a hiss and bottomed out.  He didn’t wait for Castiel to adjust or ask him to move or anything.  He just started up, thrusting roughly into Castiel’s ass.

Castiel was jarred back into reality as Dean fucked into him.  He may still be loose and little wet from the orgy, but there was still pain as Dean fucked him dry.  Dean laid over Castiel’s back, moving his hands under Castiel’s arms and curling his fingers around the front of his shoulders.  Dean had to be in just as much pain as Castiel, if not more, but he wasn’t acting like it. 

Castiel wrapped his arms around a pillow and brought it under his head.  He buried his face in it, trying to tune out the grunts and growls as Dean fucked him like an animal.  This wasn’t how it was ever supposed to be.  He’d imagined numerous scenarios of what their first time together would be like, if they’d ever gotten together.  He had given up on it ever happening a couple years ago, but he still entertained the idea.  He’d think about it during the orgies and imagine whoever he was fucking, or was fucking him, was Dean.  It would be tender, sometimes awkward, sometimes laughable.  But always enjoyable. 

This was none of those.  Dean was drunk and high and just using Castiel.  Something must’ve really upset him to spur him into this.  Castiel was just an escape.

Dean nipped as his ear and Castiel turned his head to the side, shielding that side of his head.  Dean grumbled in annoyance and snapped his hips harder.  A handful of thrusts more and Dean was spilling into him.  He ground his hips against Castiel’s ass and buried himself as deeply as possible.  He panted heavily against the back of Castiel’s neck, slowly steadying his breathing as he came down from his high— one of the highs— while Castiel laid there unsatisfied.  He’d gotten hard, but nowhere near orgasm.

Unexpectedly, Dean didn’t roll off him.  He shifted a little, trying to move his arms into an almost hug and nuzzled the crook of Castiel’s neck.  Castiel tried to get a look at the hunter still inside him, but the angle and position didn’t allow it.  He assumed Dean had fallen asleep, but he didn’t feel relaxed enough to be asleep.  Castiel sighed and stared at the headboard of the bed. 

Long moments of silence went by and it actually started to feel somewhat comforting.  Now it was a parody of what he’d wanted for years.  Dean laying curled up with him and tenderly tracing his fingers over Castiel’s skin.  His tracings slowed to a stop and he clutched at him, holding him tighter and pressing himself flatter.  Castiel felt a faint tremble roll through Dean; he was coming down now.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice cracked, “Fuck, what—“

Dean dug his fingers in harder.  He pushed up and off Castiel, grimacing at the cooled cum as his soft cock slipped out of Castiel. 

“You let me…” Dean trailed off.

The ex-angel rolled on his side and looked up at Dean as he staggered to his feet.

“You let me…”

The words died on Dean’s tongue again.  He couldn’t even finish the sentence.  Dean didn’t meet his gaze, he couldn’t.  He opened his mouth to try to say something again, but nothing came out.  He hurriedly tucked himself away and spun on his heels, losing his balance briefly from the traces of alcohol and drugs still in him, and made his way for the door with little grace.  He paused at the door, giving Castiel a small glimmer of hope, but he shook his head and left, slamming the door shut.

Castiel groaned and rolled on his back, throwing an arm over his face.  Things were going to be complicated now.

 

Dean never looked him in the eye after that. Half the time he avoided looking at Castiel altogether.  He had come back a few weeks later, unsurprisingly drunk, with the intent to apologize and beg forgiveness.  And he did apologize, profusely, as he kissed his way along Castiel’s jaw and down his neck.  Castiel rolled his eyes at the superficial apologies as Dean kneed his legs apart.  He fucked him on his back just as roughly until he came deep inside him again.  He screwed his eyes shut, hiding his face in Castiel’s shoulder for moment before quickly and wordlessly excusing himself. 

It became something of a routine after that.  Any time Dean would get frustrated, upset, depressed, or just generally burned out, he would come find Castiel.  Nothing was ever said, nothing confessed.  He came just to work out his feelings out by fucking Castiel into the mattress.  And Castiel let him.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr prompt: Destiel fic based on the song Closer by NIN?  
> this ended up a lot different than the original draft ._.  
> i might write a sequel eventually bc i'm sure i could've done this better


End file.
